[M]y first time with my beautiful coworker [F], now the love of my life

“Do you want to share an alarm clock?” I reread the draft text for the tenth time, knowing that I was on the edge of a potentially life changing decision. It was such a cheesy line too, but it was the best I could come up with after she asked me for a wake up call. I decided to veer off my perfectly planned life path into the unknown and hit send. Waiting for a reply was torture.

She was my best friend at work. Smart. Beautiful. Funny. Damn good at her job. A latin woman who loves salsa dancing and hot, sticky weather. She was fit but incredibly curvy, with breasts that stretched the buttons on her dress shirts and an ass that filled dress pants no matter how conservatively they were cut. She always wore high heels, and was stunningly gorgeous without seeming delicate or high maintenance.

I had been so excited that we had unknowingly scheduled business trips to the same site in France at the same time. She suggested we stay at the same hotels and share the same car. I jumped at the suggestion. We booked our flights with first class tickets next to each other and watched movies together on the way over, syncing up the movies so we could experience it together, even though we had both seen it before.

She laughed off my alarm clock text and said she’d see me tomorrow. My anxiety dropped into disappointment, but it could have been worse.

To my surprise, she was the one who brought it up in the car the next morning. “If we’re going to do this, then we need to set some ground rules.” I wasn’t exactly clear on what “this” meant, but didn’t want to ruin the mood and ask. Temporary, no feelings, back to normal when we got home she said. That still didn’t answer my questions, but it gave me enough to go on and I found freedom and excitement in the ambiguity. She must have meant just a sexual relationship, right? I knew I loved her years ago, but I had ignored it all then and could do so now, so I agreed.

I had a dream about her about a year before this. She was a sexy and eccentric librarian working in a tiny attic, dark and cozy, smelling of old books and cardigans. She had on red lipstick and glasses, hair pulled back into a bun tied just above her high-necked dress, carrying a pile of hardcover books. She changed my world with a kiss at the top of the sturdy but worn wooden staircase. It was like the world blossomed in that moment. I woke up with the feeling of her lips on mine and lied there for an hour, remembering every detail. I felt a deep longing for that connection, remembering the dream like a memory of a past life that I wanted to find again. Every time I saw her after that I could feel the hauntingly sensual kiss again, my lips tingling as we’d talk. It was a hint of a world I could have never imagined without her in my life.

Then I sang her a love song. Have I mentioned this is a true story? Roll your eyes all you want. I have a good voice and sang a lot in high school and college, but I never sing for anyone anymore. She gushed and we took turns adding love songs to a playlist. In hindsight, we were off to a pretty rough start for not catching feelings.

We were in the car a lot that day and ended the day in a nearby city, staying in a nice hotel next to a beautiful cathedral. “There’s a delicious litte trattoria run by an Italian man just down the street. Let’s go there for dinner. Meet me in the lobby at 8:00.” I loved how she took charge and knew what she wanted.

She was late, but holy shit was she worth the wait. More than anything I remember her lipstick, a bright shade of unmistakeable fuck-me-red. I was sitting at the hotel bar, drinking scotch and editing our playlist from that morning, saving it so I could remember this forever. She ordered a Rioja. We talked about our love lives. Neither of us were happy in our relationships. They weren’t terrible, but they weren’t what we wanted forever. We both felt trapped.

Have you ever experienced something that is the best thing that has ever happened to you and fills you with shame at the same time? I used to be so judgmental, now I don’t have a single soap box to stand on.

The trattoria had a truffle themed six course menu that night. We split a bottle of wine. There was a single line drawing of a couple kissing behind her. But her lipstick has all of my memories painted red.

After dinner we walked through the old stone streets. Past the cathedral and the town square. We were passing a bank, our arms hooked together, discussing the complications of dating. “I think one potential downside of the Me Too movement is that men are afraid to be bold and make a move. I used to find it so sexy when men would take control.”

I assumed this was a request. I stopped. She stopped. My heart began to race. I brought my hand behind her neck and pulled her in for a kiss.

“Mmnn…” she pulled away for a moment, smiled, and kissed me back. “That was amazing. You’re a good kisser.”

We walked on. We smoked hooka. We danced, sensually, rhythmically, hands all over each other, kissing, making a scene. We made out in the shadowy corner of a small church on the way back to the hotel. We held hands. I was beyond giddy, full of so much energy and excitement that I was cold and practically shaking.

We got back to the hotel. Into the elevator. And she pushed the buttons for her floor and mine.

“Come back to my room! Don’t go. I don’t want tonight to ever end,” I said.

“I’m not the kind of girl who sleeps with someone on a first date.”

“So just stay in my room and we won’t do anything more. I just want to be with you.”
Her floor came first. She got off. “See you tomorrow.”

I couldn’t believe I was walking, or rather stumbling, back to my hotel room alone. I assumed we were both on the same page.

The next morning, the whole city was partying early for the year’s biggest festival. My only close experience was tailgating before a college football game, except the whole city was in on it. There were bands walking the streets. Everyone singing songs they somehow all knew. It would have been a lot more fun if I wasn’t insanely hungover. There were people pissing in the streets and passed out on the sidewalk. It was almost noon.

My hangover got the bet of me and I headed back to the hotel, mad at myself for being so hungover I had to cut our time short. She texted me to ask what I wanted to do for lunch. I told her I felt sick and wanted to stay in my room. She brought me a sandwich. We were making out in my bed before it was gone.

“We’re not having sex!” She said, making me wonder if she would tease me for the entirety of our short time together. I wished we had been more explicit in the car and defined what “this” meant. She pulled me back into the moment when she said “But we can watch each other play.” Holy shit, I’ll take that. Watching my sexy coworker masturbate was an excellent hangover cure, and a moment I was consciously trying to burn into my memory forever. [This picture is from another night, but gives you an idea why I didn’t want to ever forget the moment.](https://imgur.com/ReCNKrN)

She sat on the end of the bed and I leaned up against the headboard. I used spit as lube so that I didn’t get into a situation where she wanted more and I had hand lotion all over myself. She started to rub herself under her panties.

“Can you take those off? I want to see all of your delicious body,” I asked while eying her panties.

“No, they’re going to stay on.”

“Oh come on, that’s not fair. I’m buck naked over here.” I wanted to see her so badly.

“You can try to get them, but I’ll fight you off,” she said playfully.
I had a brief thought of “this is how I get fired,” but her playful smile and invitation was enough to make her intentions clear. I reached for them half-heartedly and she pushed my hand away, telling me I can do better. I put more effort into it, going with both hands. Soon I was on top of her, both of us laughing, wrestling, each touch of our bare skin a new surge of excitement and desire. She grabbed my cock, trying to use it to maneuver me off, giving it a little teasing tug while she was at it. I finally managed to get them off her, and by then we were all over each other, sweating and breathing heavily, [completely naked in bed](https://imgur.com/L6OWoNC). I had never wanted anyone more than at that moment.

“At least I tried to be a good girl,” she said with a coy smile. I was between her legs and begged to taste her. “Not until I get waxed tomorrow,” she said. “But you can put just the tip in.”

“Just the tip, just for a second, just to see how it feels?” I repeated back to her, laughing at the Wedding Crashers flashback, but not complaining; we all know how that game ends. I moved closer and rubbed the head of my cock against her, parting her lips. She was dripping wet. I didn’t want to go too fast and have her force me to slow down, so I started grinding into her while on the outside, pushing my cock between her lips, grinding her clit. She pushed back, hard, much harder than I was used to. I teased her opening, staying to just the tip, dropping my hips lower to angle myself up into her g-spot.

She reached her hands around my waist and grabbed my hips and ass, partly pulling me in, partly pushing me away. I leaned down and began to lick her nipples while we teased each other until she pulled me all the way inside of her. We kissed deeply and moved slowly but intensely, grinding against each other. We were both completely taut, flexed and tense. She felt incredible. I had never been the king of stamina before, but I was so focused on her pleasure and following the cues from her body that I felt like I could last forever. She put me into a completely new headspace of more intense desire and complete focus than I had ever achieved before. After we were covered in sweat and almost completely worn out, I could feel her orgasm building. She began to buck her pussy against me, grinding on me harder, building my own release. She came, gasping, moaning, digging her nails into my ass while she pulled me deeper inside of her. I followed shortly after, feeling my cock hard beyond belief, my orgasm starting at my root. I could feel my cum shoot inside of her, pulsing, filling her, the intensity of our connection something I could have never imagined.

Over the next week we made love every chance we had, every single moment of it was the best I’d ever had. [Her squirting for the first time on top of me is something I will never forget.](https://imgur.com/sP2sXdx)

It’s five years later now. As I write this, she’s sleeping beside me, in our bed, in our house. We tried to keep it casual, but every time we were together we found new intensity and depths to our connection. We still do. I’m beyond happy. She redefined what it means for me to love and has changed me from the inside out. Our journey together has been so profoundly unique and different than what we had before that we want to share it with the world. And the craziest part is that we know more is yet to come.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ybwxv8/my_first_time_with_my_beautiful_coworker_f_now